Venkman stared right back when he had finished plugging in the machine. "Well don't look so thrilled to be here. You'll give yourself a heart attack from the sheer excitement," he quipped in a deadpan, gesturing toward the chairs in front of his desk.
The guy was a little older this time, at least. In fact, all the patients today were, which was great. No damned, dirty kids to deal with, and he could legally share alcohol with them if he thought they were good enough. He somehow doubted they would be, but hey, the option was there. He especially doubted it with Daniel here, who, with his messy hair and dark rings around his eyes, looked like the poster child for Insomniacs Anonymous. He wondered briefly how the no-coffee restriction was hitting this guy.
"I'm Dr. Venkman, by the way. How are we feeling today, Daniel?" he asked, putting on a patronizing smile as he leaned against the edge of the desk on one hand, waiting for Danny Boy to come sit down.
L's gaze narrowed a little; he didn't find heart attack jokes amusing. But if Venkman was working off of the Laurier file, it was possible that he didn't know that L had spent months dreading anything that might be the opening stages of his death at Kira's hands
( ... )
Ah, so he was definitely at least a little bit as sharp as advertised. From the look on Daniel's face, he had caught the casual heart attack dig right away. Again, what was with the unusually smart crazy people? First Jimmy, now this guy. He was supposed to be dealing with delusionals, not autistic kids with no social graces and freakish math skills or something, right
( ... )
"Mr. Youngberg, wake up. You can't miss meeting your therapist, can you?"
Lugnut groaned, muzzily, into his pillow. He felt weak and trembling and hollow, and oh, his shoulder hurt, and his legs, and the human was trying to make him move...
"Come on, Hal, you've already slept through breakfast. I know you're not feeling well after that little fall you had, but you can't stay in bed forever."
Dully bitter, he grumbled something like "Yes, I can," but still the human nagged at him, its high voice as irritating as grit in his servos, and eventually he nudged the blankets away from him and let the human half-drag his human body from the bed, just to quiet it. Every inch was pain in his limbs, was a fight against this useless body, but he made it upright eventually, and trudged listlessly behind the human as it led him someplace he'd never been, letting him into a room with another human.
He stared at the human, blankly, looking grey and dull and as if he were half a breath away from tumbling over like a shallow-rooted tree in a
Oh boy. Suddenly playing with electric shocks didn't seem quite as fun anymore. Yet, anyway. Hal certainly was a big guy, as had been described in his file, but he barely looked imposing in this state. The file had included some nurse's notes about not eating enough, but he hadn't thought it was this bad. Venkman wasn't normally one someone could expect much sympathy from, but this looked just sad.
"Come over here, sit down. Look like your gonna fall over if I blow on you, for Christ's sake," he muttered, pulling out a chair for Hal and gesturing for him to sit in it.
Lugnut hesitated for a moment, then did as he was told; any rebellion would have been merely for rebellion's sake, and would have earned him nothing from this place, this place that had already taken Lord Megatron and Blitzwing.
Once he'd sat down, he closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself-- what had that irritating human called this? Therapy? It was happening during the day, so it was likely just some bizarre fleshling thing he would have to endure-- then sighed and opened them again, looking at the human who had told him to sit with a sort of blank air about him.
Venkman went around to his own chair and sat down, leaving the machine for the time being. He would probably get to it in a bit if it seemed like the guy needed a good jolt of reality, but it wouldn't do any good to start with it right off the bat.
He spidered his fingertips, resting his elbows on the desk as he looked Hal over. He was almost tempted to diagnose him with real-deal Depression just by looking at him. And an eating disorder or two. This stuff really hadn't been in the file at all, or at least not enough. Thanks for the heads-up, Landel, Venkman thought, rolling his eyes a bit.
Silence for a little longer. "You wanna talk about it?" he asked in defeat after a bit, not able to find a much better segue into things. Might as well go with the straight-forward approach for now.
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The guy was a little older this time, at least. In fact, all the patients today were, which was great. No damned, dirty kids to deal with, and he could legally share alcohol with them if he thought they were good enough. He somehow doubted they would be, but hey, the option was there. He especially doubted it with Daniel here, who, with his messy hair and dark rings around his eyes, looked like the poster child for Insomniacs Anonymous. He wondered briefly how the no-coffee restriction was hitting this guy.
"I'm Dr. Venkman, by the way. How are we feeling today, Daniel?" he asked, putting on a patronizing smile as he leaned against the edge of the desk on one hand, waiting for Danny Boy to come sit down.
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Lugnut groaned, muzzily, into his pillow. He felt weak and trembling and hollow, and oh, his shoulder hurt, and his legs, and the human was trying to make him move...
"Come on, Hal, you've already slept through breakfast. I know you're not feeling well after that little fall you had, but you can't stay in bed forever."
Dully bitter, he grumbled something like "Yes, I can," but still the human nagged at him, its high voice as irritating as grit in his servos, and eventually he nudged the blankets away from him and let the human half-drag his human body from the bed, just to quiet it. Every inch was pain in his limbs, was a fight against this useless body, but he made it upright eventually, and trudged listlessly behind the human as it led him someplace he'd never been, letting him into a room with another human.
He stared at the human, blankly, looking grey and dull and as if he were half a breath away from tumbling over like a shallow-rooted tree in a
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"Come over here, sit down. Look like your gonna fall over if I blow on you, for Christ's sake," he muttered, pulling out a chair for Hal and gesturing for him to sit in it.
Reply
Once he'd sat down, he closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself-- what had that irritating human called this? Therapy? It was happening during the day, so it was likely just some bizarre fleshling thing he would have to endure-- then sighed and opened them again, looking at the human who had told him to sit with a sort of blank air about him.
Reply
He spidered his fingertips, resting his elbows on the desk as he looked Hal over. He was almost tempted to diagnose him with real-deal Depression just by looking at him. And an eating disorder or two. This stuff really hadn't been in the file at all, or at least not enough. Thanks for the heads-up, Landel, Venkman thought, rolling his eyes a bit.
Silence for a little longer. "You wanna talk about it?" he asked in defeat after a bit, not able to find a much better segue into things. Might as well go with the straight-forward approach for now.
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